


May John Forbid

by Decada



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Coming Out, Coming of Age, Eventual coming out, Gen, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:46:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4914766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decada/pseuds/Decada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do these boys know about their hearts at seventeen? How can they figure themselves ad each other out in these crazy times? Youth is seen as this greatest point in life, but can also be the hardest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

“And he said unto his disciples: _'_ _A new commandment I give_ _th_ _unto you,_ _t_ _hat ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another._ _'_ It is in this commandment that our Lord calls us to serve Him by showing love for others!”

 

Besides the pastor's voice filling the building with great baritone before fading off into the ceiling, the church was quite silent, missing its usual, loud rumble of running motors that usually sounded in the background. The air conditioner was broken that Sunday morning, and with the weather forecaster predicting earlier in the week temperatures going up as high as thirty-nine degrees, it was soon going to be Hell on earth. Somewhere in the church, a thermometer hanging on the wall read forty two, with no sign of getting lower. Hell was already on earth, it seemed.

 

So as much as Reverend Jermaine tried to do his work and deliver the Lord's messages that day, red in the face and possibly feeling even hotter than the rest of the people with that large robe draping over his body, his powerful voice couldn't break through the sluggish haze that had gripped everyone as they baked in the summer heat. It seemed like the energy the churchgoers planned to use to pay attention to the sermon was used up just by arriving, what's left of it going to women fanning themselves and their children with the pamphlets that are always there in the pews' holders, and a few people managing to give soft murmurs of “amen” and the like.

 

It didn't seem like Reverend Jermaine was too angry at the members for not throwing themselves at the Lord's feet or being more alive that day- he definitely didn't say anything about it for the past couple of hours- but every time his eyes even went Raivis's direction, the young boy still straightened up in his seat as much as his tired, overheated body would allow, until the reverend looked elsewhere, allowing Raivis to slump against his older brother again. Resting his head on Eduard's arm, Raivis tugged at his necktie and started to think over all of the sins he and his family and friends may have committed; there was no possible way that this heatwave, paired with the air conditioner not running on the hottest day that the country had felt, was a mere coincidence. This was torture, Jesus's punishment he sent to the sinful town to burn away their sins like in that story of Sodom and Gomorrah, and they were all making it worse by not praising God today. He knew it, he just knew it.

 

But what could Raivis do? His body doesn't want to move, and the hot, dusty air was close to choking his tiny throat, rendering his voice too useless to pray out loud. Even his eyes didn't want to work right; their lids were drooping, and when he lets himself rest for even one moment, he finds them closing on their own, and Eduard was too tired himself to keep trying to wake the boy.

 

“...it is not that hard to love and love often; it is easy to love someone who is like you, but to say that loving someone who is different from you is an impossible is an excuse that our loving Father will not allow! You can extend an endearing hand to the homeless, the sick, the gays, and-”

 

Raivis straightened up yet again, his heart thumping in his chest at the realization that he missed a lot more. How long was Reverend Jermaine going to keep talking about loving others? He's talked about it every time the town gathered here for the weekly sermon, and since everyone Raivis knew already loves each other- with their friendly “hi” and warm handshakes, and willingness to drop what they were currently doing in order to help an elderly cross the street or carry their groceries- everyone must understand by now how important love is.

 

“-God will not allow you to spread hate in His name-”

 

Raivis slumped against Eduard even more, his soaked, wavy bangs clinging to his sweaty forehead as he took a deep, laborious sigh that could very well be a yawn. This was it, the point where Raivis couldn't fight the stuffy heat or bother to pretend to listen anymore. He looked over to the stained glass windows and all of their beautifully colored pieces; he can't for the life of him understand why they had to make some really scary “pictures” of men getting their heads cut off, or women weeping over dead bodies, when they could have just pieced them together to make flowers or hearts or stars like they do in his class with the colored construction paper, but at least not all of them were so terrifying. He really liked the window showing Mary holding the cute baby Jesus to her chest, even if she was crying- which kind of made Raivis want to cry, himself- or the robed angel coming out of the cave to greet the other two women, with his angelic wings outstretched and glowing like the sun-

 

He glanced away tiredly and was suddenly spooked by the sight of eyes boring into him. They were as blue as the water by the town's beach, belonging to another little boy that definitely didn't look older than Raivis; in fact, he still looked like a baby, only a little bit bigger than most of them. Raivis couldn't tell from the pew's back blocking his view, but it looked like the child was kneeling in his seat, turned backwards in the long bench he and his family were sitting in, his tiny fingers holding onto the edge as he peeked from behind his spot. Raivis furrowed his eyebrows and raised his head from his brother's shoulder. When the other little boy saw that he had Raivis's attention, he raised an arm just enough to see his wrist and waved his chubby fingers. Raivis's eyebrows furrowed deeper at the gesture, his head tilting slightly as he watched the “baby” boy watch him expectantly. But not raised to be rude to someone- even if the stranger seemed weird- Raivis waved back at the boy.

 

The little boy smiled from behind his seat- which Raivis could tell by the tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes- and Raivis directed his attention back to the pastor, thinking it was the end of the boy's staring. And yet, as the seconds passed and turned into minutes, and Reverend Jermaine transitioned from one example of Jesus's love to another, Raivis couldn't help but feel that he was being watched. Or, put more accurately, was continued being watched. Raivis let his eyes wander some more from the podium that stood upfront. Sure enough, as he glimpsed over to where the other little boy was, those blue eyes were still set on him, still wide and waiting and observing every little thing Raivis did, or what he should do. And what would that thing he should do be?

 

“-Another passage, a wonderful message, the Messiah gave to us was to love our neighbors as we do ourselves, and to love our enemies even more, because he- our enemy- is no better than us-”

 

Raivis squirmed in his spot in the hard seating and started undoing his tie to have something to do for his nervous hands, but then Eduard caught him and took his wrist to get him to stop messing up his clothing. So Raivis had no choice but to fold his hands in his lap and endure either listening to the sermon go on and on and watch the pastor exert himself for a crowd that aren't even listening, or the weird stare of the boy that for some reason, found him interesting enough to observe.

 

Well, the other boy didn't seem _too_ bad.

 

He finally returned the other boy's gaze, and although the bizarre feelings of being watched didn't go away, this time Raivis wasn't afraid to stare right back. The other boy's face was still half-hidden behind his pew. Little drops of sweat trickled down his heat-flushed face and dripped from the tip of his nose, but not as much as Raivis's face had, maybe because the other boy was lucky enough to not be forced to wear a thick blazer to make himself look good for God. Still, the church's inside was baking, how could that boy even stand to keep watching someone for so long?

 

The other boy waved his chubby fingers on tiny hand yet again, and this time Raivis gave him a puzzled scowl. He hesitated before returning the wave again. The boy waved again, and Raivis, still confused and still scowling, waved back again. The boy waved faster, raising his head slightly higher from behind the pew's back so Raivis could see the rest of his small, grinning, sweaty face.

 

 _What does he want?_ Raivis wondered in annoyance as he continued to wave at the boy who simply waved rapidly at him. His frown deepened the longer they had this bizarre greeting session with each other, until the other boy suddenly just stopped, his tiny, chubby hand resting on the back again. Raivis stopped as well, but kept his gaze fixed on him. They stared at each other silently as the reverend's gruff voice continued to resound throughout the church, until the other boy crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

 

With a soft gasp, Raivis raised his eyebrows and looked around at all the older, sleepy-looking people. Is anyone seeing this? That boy is being very rude and strange, and distracting Raivis from a very important sermon! But since no adult had enough energy to pay two little children any mind, Raivis reciprocated the rude face making gesture by flicking his little pink tongue out at him. The boy broke his funny face by laughing silently and pulled an ever weirder face, stretching his smile as he stuck his tongue back out. Raivis huffed softly and stuck his thumbs inside his ears, his palms opened as he waved his fingers and stuck his tongue out as far as it could go. The other boy hooked his index fingers to the corners of his lips and stretched his bottom lip, revealing his bottom row of teeth and gum as his eyes seemed to roll to the back of his head. Raivis had to pause to cover his mouth and nose in order to muffle the snort that almost slipped out; he had to admit, that was pretty funny, but he topped that by squishing his cheeks in his palms so much that his lips puckered out like a fish.

 

The other boy's shoulders shook with unheard giggles as he lowered his face. At that, Raivis smirked at some sort of triumph over this makeshift game with this strange boy. But thenhe, the other little boy, lifted his head back up to show Raivis his tongue lolling out and swinging slowly from side to side, like the pendulum of a clock as his eyes rolled around in opposite directions. Impressed that he could do that with his eyeballs, Raivis looked down at his feet for a moment, trying to think of a face that could possibly beat that. But there was nothing he could do; no silly, whacky face he could make could beat something like that. So he settled for what came to mind and stretched out his ears as he poked his tongue out.

 

“Pbbbt!” He blew out.

 

“Raivis!”

 

Raivis froze, his hands slowly lowering from his ears as he turned his head. All around him, his eyes met the curious and offended stares of the other churchgoers, the other children who were present getting into little fits of giggles and snorts as their parents and guardians shook their heads at the family who apparently couldn't raise their son right.

 

Eduard and Toris moved out of the way so their mother could lean to Raivis and take his wrist in a horrifyingly strong grip. With her folded pamphlet, she swatted the back of Raivis's hand a few times. “Don't you be _disrespectful_ in the house of _Christ_!” she hissed, pointing the pamphlet in Raivis's face.

 

The other children giggled harder, finding entertainment in this child getting the closest thing to a public spanking. His mother settledback into her spot as the young boyhung his head and rubbed the backof his hit hand; besides the slight sting that was starting to go away really quickly, the hits from the flimsy paper didn't hurt at all, but Raivis's cheeks still burned, and whatever was dripping from the corner of his eyes was definitely not sweat.

 

From the angle of his head, Raivis peeked up to the little boy. His father and uncle turned to him to find who caused that embarrassing noise and in doing so, caught the little boy turned in his seat. The smaller man, whom Raivis guessed was the boy's father, whispered harsh scoldings at him and guided him to sit right, but before he did, Raivis caught a bit of a pout from the little boy, a frown at their little game ending. Good, serves him right for getting Raivis in trouble!

 

And Reverend Jermaine resumed the long, exhaustive sermon on love and compassion as if nothing has interrupted him to begin with, leaving the punished child to stew in his tiny anguish and sleepiness…

-

 

The pastor offered a small reprieve from the indoor heat by ending the first part of the sermon, but before the churchgoers herded out for fresh, if still hot, air, he reminded them that the adults will meet up once more to discuss the various ways to put Jesus's lessons to practice in the community, as well as more of the examples Jesus himself led, and the children and teenagers will resume their lesson in the Sunday school.

 

Once outside, everyone merged into the usual groups set off into sections of the church's massive back yard- the old mommies and daddies talking their weird grown-up talk about the fights going on in unheard countries that sound far away and something called “taxes”, the older kids who chatted about boys and girls and risking the spread of cooties by trying to chat with the other gender, and Raivis sitting among the other young kids, or at least _close_ to them; none of the others wanted to sit by the troublemaker who made the funny fart noise in church, to be known as the friend of the kid who got in trouble for blowing raspberries at God. And each of them inched themselves away when Raivis tried to sit among them.

 

As lonely as that felt- so lonely, in fact, that the boy would've had another bout of crying if the hot air didn't dry him out- it did give Raivis the opportunity to play with the toys he picked out of the church's toy chest without needing to share with anyone. So he sat crossed-leg on the scratchy, dry grass, part of his attention going to racing the blue car against the red car, another part going to watching his older brothers with intense worry as Toris, straightening his tie and jacket and making sure his hair cut was as neat as possible, crossed over the invisible line between the boys and girls to talk with the pretty girl with the bow in her long hair-

 

“Hi, there!”

 

Gasping for the second time that day, Raivis quickly turned his head around and pressed his cars to his chest, his frightened eyes setting into a pouting glare as they met the ocean blue ones of the boy who got him in trouble today. All politeness abandoned, Raivis laid his cars back back on the browning grass and grumbled, “W-what do you w-want?”

 

The other boy moved to sit right next to Raivis, his grin wavering only slightly at Raivis's curt demand. “Hi!” he said again, and Raivis had to wince at how loud- maybe not loud, just so _squeaky_ \- the boy's voice was. “My name's Peter Kirkland! But sometimes people call me Peter Oxen...Oxenser… or Peter Vaina...” After a quick pause, he asked, “What's your name, mister?”

 

Raivis stopped racing his cars and bit into his bottom lip; why did this kid- Peter- just call him mister? He does realize that he's not that much older than him, does he? Yet, Raivis felt an odd sense of respect by the title, so he stated, “My name's Raivis.” And that was all he was going to give this strange Peter boy before he went back to racing his cars on the parched grass.

 

“Rai-Rai...vis?” Peter crossed his legs, rested his elbows on his lap, and cupped his chin in his hands as he watched the cars run alongside and around each other. Raivis tried to keep his gaze away from him- almost boring his eyes on the wooden cars just to avoid seeing the little boy's face- but he could see the desire to have a car to play with in Peter's eyes, so he groaned heavily and held the blue one out for Peter, who took it in his eager fingers and ran it around the area they were sitting in. “Raivis is a funny name,” he said after spending a couple of minutes making annoying- in Raivis's opinion- engine noises. “It's almost as funny as my daddies' names.” Looking over from the corner of his eye, Peter caught Raivis's heated scowl, but he didn't even waver this time. “But it's a cool name, and I like it! It sounds like rice but it doesn't sound like rice and-”

 

“W-what do you want, P-Peter?” Raivis tried again. Maybe if this kid spilled it, he'll leave him alone sooner.

 

“Oh! I have a birthday party!” He looked up for a brief moment, his gaze and grin warm and excited. “And I wanted to say that you can come if you want! I'm gonna be, uh-” he stuck four fingers up, “-this many old and my Papa Tino is going to get this bi-ii-iig cake because he likes cake- almost as much as I like cake because cake is good, and-”

 

“O-okay, okay!” Raivis waved the boy to silence himself. “O-okay, I'll come to your party, but I have to ask my Mommy first, because she-”

 

“I'll go ask for you!” At that sudden declaration, Raivis almost jumped up as the boy dropped his car, shot out of his sitting spot, and charged at the group of adults. It was too late; Peter was already standing among them, asking for Raivis's mom since he couldn't remember her face from earlier and once getting her attention, he tugged at her skirt- to which Raivis wince; that dress is her most favorite and most delicate- folded his hands behind his back, and started speaking with her. She shook her head a few times, but the boy was obviously not one to give up on his pestering; he bounced on his toes a few times, tilted his head, earning a genuine rare chuckle from her, and after she glanced at the two men that sat with Peter, and then passed Peter to her son, who still stood awkwardly in his play area with his hands folding and fiddling in front of him, as if he was preparing to apologize for whatever the other boy was saying to her…

 

She laughed along with the other adults at whatever Peter was saying, and she…

 

She nodded?

 

Even from where he stood, Raivis could still hear Peter squeal in pure delight, “Yay! Thank you so, so much, Misses Raivis's Mommy!” He reached up to take the woman's hand and gave it a little shake and raced back to Raivis, who gaped at the strange happening. Before Raivis could fight back his shock to say something, Peter took his hand and pulled him back to the adults, his mouth running on miles a minute yet again. “Your mommy said yes, Raivis! Okay, so now you have to meet my daddies because I don't think they know you but when you meet them you have to call my Daddy Tino 'Uncle' while, er, 'we're in the _presents_ of other people' like my daddies say and if you do, you'll get a bigger piece of cake like me and-”

 

“Wait a m-minute! W-wait a minute!” Raivis looked back at his toy cars, somewhat concerned that some other boy was going to take claim of them if no one was going to watch them, but overall, his nerves jumped at the mere idea of having to meet Peter's daddies. He could already feel his throat close in stern protest against speaking to an adult, and his legs grow heavy from trying to move any further, but the tiny boy in front of him was stronger than he appeared; he seemed to pulled harder as if he could sense that any moment, Raivis was going to turn and run back, and he wasn't going to allow the decision to be taken back.

 

In no time, Peter had Raivis standing by his side, his tiny hand gripping one of Raivis's sweaty hands as he stood on his toes to tug on his fathers' sleeves. “Daddy! Uncle Tino!” he called out as if every adult in the group had to give him attention. “This is the boy I was talking about! Raivis!”

 

Raivis hung his head, but could still hear the soft chuckle of one of Peter's “daddies”; with pursed lips, he watched polished loafers appear on the ground in front of him and then the knees of pressed trousers as the man crouched. The man placed a hand on Raivis's shoulder.

 

“Well, hello there, Raivis.” Raivis could hear the gentle smile in his voice, and oddly, it made him feel more uneasy. “My name is Tino. I hear that you would like to come to my nephew's birthday party?”

 

With a quick nod, Raivis tightened his fingers around Peter's hand; he was tempted to stand closer to Peter, despite not knowing him at all besides the name. With another chuckle, Tino tilted his head to see Raivis's eyes and flushed cheeks. “Aw, dear, there's nothing to be afraid of! We would be delighted to have all of Peter's friends at his party!”

 

“It's true,” spoke a voice so deep and rumbling that a startled Raivis made sure that he kept his eyes on the blades of grass.

 

“You're such a sweet child,” Tino said, holding out his hand to him. Raivis's other hand twitched at his side before he hesitated, but he couldn't act so rudely with his mother standing right there, so he went ahead and took the offered hand to shake it weakly. For such a large hand that had some scars on it, it was soft to the touch, almost like the palms of Raivis's mother's hands.

 

Raivis finally looked up and, seeing Tino's lips curl up sweetly, offered a smile of his own. Tino looked back towards Raivis's mother. “Shall we exchange numbers so I may call you about the party-”

 

The church bell rang loudly over Tino's voice, and as Tino straightened up, he said, “Oh, well, we could discuss it after church then.” He took Peter's hand, prompting his son to release Raivis and follow after his father and uncle. But the three of them looked over their shoulders and waved still, as if they were going to part ways instead of going back into the same building, Peter waving the most enthusiastically.

 

“Come along, Raivis,” his mother ordered as someone, most likely one of his brothers, came up to him and took his hand to lead him back inside, because the child was standing so still as he watched the little family disappear into the church, wondering to himself just how did any of that happen.

 


	2. Chapter 2

There was something unsettling about driving across town that Raivis didn't like, and the uneasiness only grew the more he came close to falling asleep as he watched the strange lull of scenery pass by the car window, spotting the changes that let him know that he wasn't in their neighborhood anymore. He watched the trees roll by, the concrete turn to dirt road and back to concrete, and people ride bikes or stroll along under the serene, sunny daylight.

With a large, beautifully-wrapped box on his lap- or at least, it seemed large to him; it definitely didn't seem so big when his mother was carrying it around in her arms- Raivis couldn't prevent his stomach from tightening at the destination they were driving to, as well as remembering what he heard that night after they came home from church a week ago. When his mother thought he was sleeping, Raivis had crept to the bathroom to pee and when he was finished, on his way back to his room, he managed to catch his mother's voice carry up the stairs. He was only able to hear her end of the conversation, but he knew that she was making the plans for traveling to that boy Peter's house, as well as figuring what gift she may have to buy for Raivis to give to Peter, the way she kept asking for directions and what type of toys Peter liked, when she wasn't chuckling her usual, light chuckle at whatever the person on the other line was saying.

And all that night, after Raivis crept back to his room and slid into his blanket, he could still hear his mother's pleasant tone carrying through the door and walls, and she sounded so excited for her son to have someplace to go next week, to be actually invited over for once. Which only made one of them, because even now, as he sat strapped to his seat and fussed over the little bow tie he had to wear for the second time, Raivis's nerves never truly settled from the first time Peter invited him to the party in front of all those grown-ups, and even though he didn't know that kid, Raivis still had to get him a gift – meaning that he had to add some of his money from his piggy bank to the overall cost so that, as his mother said, “it would mean it came straight from him”, get all fancied-up in another stuffy suit, and for what? What if the cake didn't taste good, or the kids there were from church and they were still going to laugh at him for that gas noise he made during Reverend Jermaine's lecture-?

He inhaled a deep breath of air and huffed it out just as heavily, which still did nothing to stop the panicked thoughts from spilling and turning in his head over and over, in turn making his palms pool with sweat and his breath stop in his throat.

In the front seat, Mrs. Galante glanced at Raivis in the rear view mirror and pursed her painted lips at the way he crossed and uncrossed his legs at the ankles, the box moving around on his lap from the fidgeting. She could hear the delicate gift jostle about inside and its tissue paper rustling. “...Darling, please be careful with that gift. We won't have enough time to get another one and be on time for the party.”

Raivis did as he was told and leaned back into his seat, wiping his sweaty palms on his starched ironed and shorts. With nothing to do, and wishing to not watch the scary change of scenery- that did nothing but make him panic over how far away from home they were- Raivis instead focused on the wrapping paper. Little white sail boats with red sails floating in bright blue, along with some yellow fish and red and white life savers, topped with a skillfully tied big blue bow. If Raivis wasn't so tired from the long ride, he'd pout at the super neato gift Peter was getting. Instead of pouting, Raivis yawned and let his head rock back against the seat, his eyelids falling heavy and slowly blocking out the cloudless sky.

“Raivis! Raivis, dear, wake up!”

In his sleep, Raivis felt soft fingertips stroke his little cheek. The touch made him roll his head to the side where he could hear his mother's oddly sweet voice in his dark, unconscious state. He gave a hushed moan and opened his eyes to his mother crouching in front of the open car door. He looked around, but the only thing his groggy mind could pick up was Mrs. Galante's small, heart-shaped face.

Raivis yawned again and rubbed the back of his hand on his eyes. “Mm… M-Mommy?”

With his eyes blocked, Raivis didn't see the sweet smile flash across his mother's face before she moved to reach over him. “We're here, sweetie,” she said as she unbuckled her son's seat belt.

We're here… It took a couple of moments for Raivis to truly hear that in his state, but once he registered those words, Raivis's eyes popped open. With the alertness kicking in, his ears finally picked up the faraway screams, laughter, and high-pitched squeals ringing in the air. Raivis tried to lean to see behind his mother, but she guided him out of his seat, murmuring to him to be careful of the gift, and set him outside on his feet anyway. With his mother out of his view, he could see the scene of their destination.

What a zoo! his young mind noted. In the wide, lush yard in front of a little light blue house, children were running amok and chasing each other, shouting at each other in their fits of giggling. Of course, Raivis was used to kids his age playing and getting loud– especially during recess at his school– but the way these guys were dirtying up their fancy clothes and throwing pebbles at each other, and pushing each other into the ground– even some of the boys were shoving girls into the dusty patches of the large lawn, and vice versa– it was worse than the controlled play time his class would have.

“Um… Mommy...” Raivis raised his eyes up to his mother and pouted his bottom lip out to her, who ignored the face her child was making and gently pushed him along by his shoulder.

As they made their way to the house, Raivis kept watch over the little busybodies, cinching his lips to prevent himself from grimacing as a girl with a flower in her long, brown hair chased another girl with a dead frog dangling in her grip– oh, no, it was alive, and it was struggling to get its leg free, the poor thing. During the walk, he had not once relax his hold on the large gift box, fearing that these wild kids would bump into him and make him drop it, until he and his mother miraculously reached the little house's front steps. Mrs. Galante looked down at her child, smiling that smile that was, to others, warm and sweet– if a little too chaste– but to him, told him to straighten his posture, make sure his clothes are neat, and for goodness sake, stop perspiring so much or others will think he has a condition.

So he straightened his posture, balanced the gift in one hand to free his other to neaten his tie, and tried to smile like his mother as she tapped her knuckles against the door, then pressed her manicured nail into the doorbell. Besides the screams of children behind them, Raivis and Mrs. Galante didn't hear anything, especially not within the house where she knew the adults had to be in.

But after a few moments passed, they could make out the sound of cheerful giggles, followed by a tiny voice shouting, “Hold on, I'm coming!” Rapid little footsteps came closer to the door, and the door itself swung open to the familiar, wide ocean eyes. And the face, although still round and tinted with rosy color, was slightly smudged with dirt, which did not go unnoticed by either of the new guests.

The giggling Peter looked from over his shoulder to Mrs. Galante and waved. “Hi, Mrs. Raivis's Mommy!” When his gaze wandered down to the boy next to her, his smile grew. “Hi, Raivis!” He exclaimed, moving to throw his arms around the boy, possibly not noticing the gigantic gift box in the way.

Still, Mrs. Galante blocked him from giving her son the hug as she crouched and took Peter's shoulder, turning him to face her and yanking out a handkerchief from her bra. She dabbed the little cloth against her tongue. “Oh, honey, how did you get so much of this dirt on you?” she asked, wiping the cloth on the little boy's cheeks. “Surely, your father won't approve of this on your birthday!”

“B– but they don't– they don't really–” Peter sputtered, his face scrunching as the lady scrubbed his face. He kept trying to move his head free from Mrs. Galante's grip and suffocating napkin.

This little show would have been entertaining for Raivis, as well as relieving since he wasn't at the receiving end of the hygienic torture, but it was being at the receiving end so much did he know how insufferable (or at least very annoying) it was to have his mother attack the boy's head with the cleaning cloth. So, once again, he balanced the gift with one hand to use the other to tap his mother's shoulder. “Uh, M-Mommy...”

Mrs. Galante turned her attention to the inquiring face of her child and grinned thinly, releasing Peter and rising back up. “I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Where are your father and uncle?”

Peter subtly wiped one of his cheeks with the back of his hand to get rid of the girl cooties that he knows that Mrs. Raivis's Mommy gave him, as nice as a lady she was. He looked over his shoulder again to the empty area that made up the stairway and living room, his gaze seeming distant. He then smiled up at his guests. “They're in the back! Hold on, I'll get them!”

With that, Peter slammed the door shut, with Mrs. Galante luckily moving herself and Raivis out of the way before it had hit them. They could hear the tapping footsteps retreating, and instead of walking straight into the house- a rude gesture they know very well not to do- Raivis and his mother stood to wait and looked around, watching the other birthday party-goers play in the front yard. Maybe Raivis had exaggerated the number of kids and chaos here; now that he was able to distinguish the dresses, suits, and faces, he managed to count around ten kids, and besides the few who were roughhousing or playing in the dirt, some were simply sitting and talking, playing with some toys and such.

Raivis's attention was diverted, though, as Mrs. Galante took him by the shoulder and said softly, “Now, Raivis, when we meet Mr. Oxensteirna and Mr. Vainamoinen, you will be on your best behavior, understood? They were kind enough to invite us to their son's party, and I do not need you to act strange and withdrawn, understood?”

Raivis licked his lips and nodded. “Y-yes, M-mommy.”

Mrs. Galante's eyelids fluttered close, her nostrils expanding with a slow exhale. “And that stuttering, my dear son, will you stop that-”

“Peter, honestly, why didn't you just lead them to the back through the house?”

Mrs. Galante and her son glanced around to find where the voice was coming from, both of them turning to the side of the house and tidying up their clothing once more as Mr. Vainamoinen stepped around, with his little nephew happily skipping after him.

“You said-! You said I can't let strangers in the house, Uncle Tino!” The boy chirped.

Mr. Vainamoinen shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Peter, we met them at our church, remember?” Still, he had a smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around Mrs. Galante. “Mare! I'm glad you made it!”

“I'm glad to be here.” She reciprocated the hug and grinned at him when they pulled away.

“And Raivis! Hello there!” Mr. Vainamoinen rubbed Raivis's head and missed the tightening of Mrs. Galante's red lips as his affectionate gesture mussed the child's hair. “Are you ready for some fun today?”

“Uh...” Raivis's gaze quickly flicked up to his mother and back into the man's bright, violet eyes. He nodded a little too stiffly. “Uh huh.”

Mr. Vainamoinen quirked an eyebrow at the boy's hesitant reply, but move passed them to the door and gestured for the two to follow him; Mrs. Galante had to snatch away the box from Raivis's hands as Peter went to grab one of them and tug the boy along. Through the house, they went, with Mrs. Galante showering praises on Mr. Vainamoinen for such a foreign yet homey interior taste, which Raivis didn't take much notice of since his attention was split between wanting to go home and trying to catch Peter's words coming at him miles a minute. Out the back door, and Raivis knew that he was initially right about there being too many children here. For some odd reason- possibly because of the party snacks and the mounds of toys scattered around the yard- most of the kids were congested to the back yard instead of the more spacious front yard. This did explain why it was still so loud despite there being so few children out front.

Mr. Vainamoinen led Mrs. Galante to the colorfully decorated table that held the food and the mountain of a cake, where another taller figure stood as he placed the punch bowl among the food. When the group reached the table, Peter released Raivis's hand and started running towards the table area, shouting, “Papa! Papa!”

The man turned upon being called by his son and stooped with open arms, grabbing the little boy charging at him and swinging the giggling child high. When Peter's Papa noticed more people coming his way, he let Peter down and smiled at the new guests.

...Or whatever that awkward, irritable-looking expression was on his face, that still startled Raivis and his mother a week later. Luckily for them both, Mrs. Galante had enough grace for the both of them and returned the expression (without the chilling fear that Berwald's grin invoked).

She went to shake his hand and placed the gift on the table, with Raivis following her like a duckling. When she noticed him, she bent slightly and whispered, “Well, go on! Go play with the others!” She wagged her finger. “And you better make friends!”

Why did it feel like Mommy was tossing him out to the sea to feed the sharks when she ordered him that? Hands hanging at his side, Raivis turned obediently and walked off as his Mommy strolled over to the group of adults enjoying some beer and wine. He didn't walk far before the special birthday boy hopped right in front of him.

“Hi, Raivis!”

Raivis held in a strained yelp and a glare at those big blue eyes- why are they so huge? Why are they always staring at him?- and huffed. “Hi, P-Peter.”

Peter seemed to beam even more brightly at the returned greeting and took Raivis's hand once more, leading him straight back to the table. If he were to look over his shoulder, he would have noticed the nervous grimace on Raivis's face at their clasped palms, but nothing could grip the boy's attention as much as Raivis's gift sitting atop the table.

“Wow! Did you get me this?” Peter pointed at the box and bounced on his toes.

Raivis had let out a small hum that was close to a groan, thankful that Peter hadn't noticed the way his palms were getting sweaty again. “Yeah, I did.”

“Wow,” Peter repeated. He reached out and touched his fingers to the box's wrapping paper. “I like boats! Do you like boats, Raivis?”

“I guess...”

“Neat!” Peter started tugging Raivis away from the table and to the wild group of kids. “My uncles- my actual uncles, not my Daddy-pretend-uncle Tino- have boats! They work at the fishies farm and they- and they get to go to the sea! And they said that they're gonna let me be cap'tin someday!” Peter puffed proudly at his future position but deflated and gave a crestfallen pout. “But they said I'm too small now. That stinks.”

Raivis nodded, narrowly missing collision with a kid screaming at the top of his lungs. Just do what Mommy says. Just do what Mommy says…

“So, what do you want to do, Raivis?” Peter slowed to a halt right into the screaming mass of guests- everyone is just so loud, how can Peter even hear himself think?- and watched Raivis expectantly. “We have lots of neat stuff to do here! Papa has the- has the horse shoe games set up, and basketball, and hula hoops- although the girls took all of those-”

“What's that?” Raivis murmured, pointing some distance off.

Peter whipped his head around to find what Raivis was pointing at. Spotting the questioned object, Peter grinned even wider and ecstatically started pulling Raivis towards the little blue kiddie pool with the rainbow fish painted on its outer blue surface. When they neared the pool, which was only occupied by two others kneeling outside it, Raivis noticed the little toy boats bobbing in the water. Seeing the plastic toys of various sizes and colors made Raivis huff softly. His gift was going to be so pointless…

Peter knelt by the pool and tugged on Raivis's blazer sleeve to urge him to sit. When Raivis knelt beside him, Peter eagerly yanked a couple of the boats towards them and handed one to Raivis, practically shoving the thing into the other boy's chest. “You ever played with these before?” he asked.

Raivis looked at the soaked boat and sat it down on the grass next to him. He unbuttoned his blazer, shrugged it off, and folded it neatly, then started rolling up his dress shirt sleeves. “S-sometimes I-I do,” he replied, but inspecting the toys more closely, he didn't recognize them at all; they were far from similar to any of the boats he usually sees in the store or the church's toy chest. They seemed so durable and specially crafted, like straight from Santa Claus's shop. “Where d-did you get these fr-from?”

“My Papa made them!” Peter pointed behind them, where Berwald had an arm draped casually over Tino's shoulder as they- mainly Tino- were chatting with some of the adults. “The tall one, not my pretend uncle. Aren't they great?” Peter held his boat up to his eyes to gaze at them like he was beholding gems.

“Mhm,” Raivis replied, and it was an honest answer. They were great; they were fantastic enough to spark a twinge of envy in the older boy's chest, with their fantastic new paint, intricate carvings in the wooden body, and cloth sails that even had Peter's initials stitched into them in gold thread.

“Hey, Raivis?”

Raivis quickly stowed away the envy and looked at Peter. “What?”

Peter placed his boat in the pool and started moving it around in the water. “What school do you go to?”

“I g-go to the Aca... A-cad-em-y of Div-in-it-y,” Raivis sounded the difficult words out, looking into the pool where some of the unused boats bobbed. A soft, quick gasp made him look back up. “What?” he asked as Peter's ever-wide eyes grew wider and bore into him.

“I go to the Academy of Divinity! I mean I'm going to go when my daddies get me settled in 'cause I'm not in the school yet, but I'm going to go to that school!”

Raivis shook his head. “But you can't.”

Peter's smile fell completely, his little mind thinking Raivis's statement was meant to sting him instead of pointing out a fact. “But… why?”

“Because, the Ac-” Raivis's face scrunched as he worked his tongue to not trip over the words. “The Aca-de-my of Div-in-ity is for b-big kids like me. Y-you have to be in the first grade first. Like me!”

“Oh!” Peter said. He nodded enthusiastically and grinned once more. “But I am in the first grade!”

“N-no, you're not! You're only four! You just turned four, too!”

At that, Peter puffed his chest and smirked, his wet arms folded. “Yeah, well, my old teacher said that- said that I got something special in me, so I got to skip preschool!”

“Not true!”

“Is too! Uncle Tino!” When Tino looked over, Peter continued, “I skipped preschool, didn't I?”

“Yes, son, you did,” Tino called back.

As Mrs. Galante started asking Tino and Berwald about Peter's education- along with the other adults whose curiosity was piqued by this child's precociousness- Peter flashed Raivis another grin. “See? I told you!”

Raivis gawked at Peter, then at Tino, and back at the birthday boy. “B-but how?”

Peter pulled his ship out of the pool to admire the genuine wooden hull. “Like I said, my old teacher said I have something special in me. I'm probably as neat as you!”

Raivis found his lips pursing together once more, eyes going back to the boat loaned to him by the kid too smart for his own good. Great. Just great. After Raivis spent much of his play time watching the boats bob in the water with completely sulking disinterest, Berwald and Tino broke away from the rest of the adults to come to the pool, dodging running children left and right. Tino went off to the side of the house while Berwald knelt behind Raivis and Peter. He placed a hand on his son's back.

“Peter, kids,” Berwald addressed the kiddie pool occupants, “it's almost time for cake and presents. Go on and clean your hands.”

“Yay!” The birthday boy threw his hands up in the air, splashing water on himself, his father's face, and Raivis's clothes. He then raced to the house, stopped halfway, and ran back to retrieve his new friend by the wrist, leading him away.

Apparently, washing hands consisted of Tino spraying cold water on their hands from the hose, with no soap or wipe in sight. Raivis took a glance over his shoulders at his mother, saw her nod as well as wave for him to continue, and held his hands out to be “cleaned”. Dear Lord was the water freezing, like the poor child was dunked in Santa's backyard pool in the middle of a harsh winter. Yet Peter giggled and playfully turned his face away from the backsplash. Tino soon found their hands cleans enough and had them go to the table, to which Peter led Raivis with a grip that Raivis wanted to get free from. What was with this boy and holding onto people so tightly? And why was his hold so strong, like steel?

They were seated at the table, Peter at the head and Raivis right next to him, waiting for the other kids to get rounded up and have their hands washed. Soon, everyone gathered at the table to watch Tino present the cake– an amazing, four-tiered white cake with blue trimmings and little candy anchors ringing each layer– and Berwald lighting the four candles. If Peter were any heavier, he'd break his chair with the way he was bouncing giddily on his bottom, his legs swaying and occasionally kicking Raivis and some other poor kid who, if he was feeling any pain like himself, was hiding it like a champ.

To Tino's clapping and countdown, the table and adults standing around it lifted their voices and sang Peter a somewhat off-key birthday song that the guest of honor loved nonetheless. Peter closed his eyes, whispered a wordless wish to himself and to the candles, and blew a breath so heavy at the flames that for a moment, Raivis almost feared the possible saliva all over the cake. Almost, because cake was still cake to a six-year-old, so with hidden eagerness, he gratefully accepted the cake and ice cream along with the hotdogs and crisps. After Berwald handed out juice boxes to the children and they had their fill of the food, the time came for the most important part of any birthday party: presents.

The part that Raivis now dreaded and saw as pointless for sticking around; his present was going to stink like smelly stink bugs. He could already imagine Peter opening the gift only to toss it aside, muttering something like I already have a million of these!

“I want to- I want to open this one!” Peter reached right on over and snatched up the familiar big package.

“Um...” Raivis watched Peter's face brighten at the name tag and his little fingers rip into the bow and paper. He stared at the plastic tabletop and waited.

Peter must have been raised to show gratitude for any gift because the gasp and surprised squeal he made was not what Raivis expected for the simple toy. Raivis looked up to see Peter holding the little boat up in his hands with help from Tino. Raivis couldn't understand why Peter liked it; it wasn't real-looking like his other boats, just a little thing more suited for the bathtub with its blue rubber hull, white plastic bow, and stern, and a plastic mast holding a sail that was better off as a napkin in some fast food restaurant. There was nothing special about it like the other boats Peter had in the pool, minus the “Peter” written along the hull as neatly as Raivis's hands could allow.

Yet here Peter was, eyes glimmering brightly. “Raivis, I like it! It's so neat!”

Tino smiled sweetly. “Peter loves boats and the sea so much, it's odd.”

“But a good kind of odd,” Peter added, craning his neck back to look up at his father.

Tino ruffled his son's hair. “Yes, the good kind of odd.”

Peter giggled and started to squirm off his seat. “Come on, guys, let's play with it!”

Berwald's hand held onto Peter's shoulder, turning him back to his seat. A mixture of good-natured and awkward laughter sounded from the adults. “Son, hold on now. You still have other gifts to unwrap.”

Peter set his new, apparently lovely boat aside and moved back into his seat, his grin even brighter. “Oh, yeah!”

He continued on with the gift-receiving: action figures from his favorite cartoons (some even had cool karate-chop features!), toy cars, roller skates, a camera, and a pair of new pants that Peter's fathers thanked the givers immensely for, even when Peter's thanks was a little less enthusiastic. But what caught Raivis's attention was how much Peter seemed to favor his gift: eyes shifting to the toy constantly, fingers brushing the hull and sail, and Peter casting a sideways smile towards Raivis like they shared a secret. Maybe they did share a secret: Raivis's boat was the best gift out of them all, but he knew Peter couldn't show favoritism just yet; Raivis was always taught that showing favoritism towards a gift in front of guests was rude.

After Berwald went to put the gifts away, Tino ushered the kids to the middle of the garden for some games, with prizes promised to winners, and with some of Raivis's worries put to rest, he was actually able to join in the good mood. They played hide and seek, duck-duck-goose, horseshoe-tossing, pin the tail on the donkey, all the while Raivis's laughter matched Peter's own bubbly giggles. Raivis won a little cake to take home, something that his mother took possession of quickly “until tomorrow's dinner”. It didn't bother him one bit because, after the games, Mr. Tino passed out goodie bags full of candy and plastic toy instruments like the kazoo and the harmonica.

As it is with any sort of festivities, the fun made time fly by fast, so families soon lined their children up to the birthday boy, letting the children say their goodbyes, give hugs, and thank the hosting family for the exciting day they had. Raivis and Mrs. Galante were last, but instead of hugging Raivis and letting them be on their way, Peter watched until the last family left to tug on Mrs. Galante's skirt.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Raivis's Mommy?” the little birthday boy said. “Is it okay if Raivis can sleep over tonight?”

All the adults and Raivis stared at the boy, exchanged glances, and remained silent until Tino chuckled and crouched to Peter's eye level. “Peter, son, you know that Raivis can't stay tonight, right?”

Peter pouted, giving Raivis a quick, sad glance. “But why?” he whined, turning his eyes back to his father-uncle.

“Because, it's short noticed, dear; you don't expect Raivis to sleep over without a sleeping bag and change of clothes, do you?”

Peter hesitated to reply, bottom pouting even more, but he ended up sighing, “No. But I want him to play with my new boat with me!”

Tino removed Peter's party hat to rub his hair. “I know, Peter. But maybe some other time.” At that, Tino and Berwald looked towards Raivis's mother, Tino smiling and Berwald giving what may be a faint, soft smile, too. “Maybe sometime during the weekend?”

Raivis craned his neck back to watch his mother, seeing her nod and return the pair's grins.

“That would be lovely,” she said. “Like I said earlier, it's hard for my baby to make friends, so I'm touched that your son took such a great liking to mine.”

Tino clapped his hands together. “Superb! Okay, I'll call you tomorrow and see about setting the sleepover up.”

Peter grinned, close to bouncing on his toes. “Does that mean that Raivis can sleep over?”

“Next weekend, Petey,” Berwald said, “but yes, he can.”

With a little squeal, Peter threw his hands in the air then wrapped his arms around Raivis. Again, Raivis fought off the need to flinch from Peter's invasive touching, but he found, in that moment, that the need wasn't as strong as it was earlier. In fact, if Peter's hug hadn't trapped Raivis's arms, and if Raivis wasn't holding so much candy and party favors, he might had just returned the hug.

Like the other families, the Galante pair bid their farewells and drove off, Raivis softly blowing on his little plastic kazoo in the backseat, the day racing through his mind like a film, especially the conversation that took place before their departure.

Maybe it was the fun they had today, or the high amount of sugar, or the relief and glee that his gift was so well-received, but thinking about the upcoming sleepover with the loud, invasive boy with the big eyes sparked not trepidation at the many things that can go wrong, but excitement for the weekend to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Ha ha, sooo... I was listening to "John Forbid" by Jennah Bell, and then I was thinking about an old relationship my muse had with romanceandvodka/ask-the-cutie-latvia's Raivis, and I just...
> 
> I just really hope I can actually finish this one, because with the plans I have for this story and these two boys, it's going to be an interesting ride.


End file.
